Ceci est le Titre de Notre Histoire en Francais
by hionsomthin
Summary: erik's world is turned more upside down than it already is...if that's possible. R&R, please
1. Part One: Chapter One

**Ceci est le Titre de Notre Histoire en Français**

by shoeanders and stevewraith

Category: Humor

Ships: None

Rating:

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: we LOVE phantom of the opera. unfortunately, it doesn't and never will belong to us, but we do and always will take credit for writing this, no matter how intoxicated we were at the time…

**shoe's A/N: ok, here I go…um…well, scary things come out of French class, and this is most definitely one of them. you might not like the fic or think that it's funny: I assure you, it was damn fun writing this. these first couple chappies are mine, but we worked together, so I wont take the full credit.**

**steve's A/N: we are not responsible for any mental trauma caused by reading this story**

Distribution: If you like it all that much and want to share it, go ahead. All we ask is that you review in exchange.

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PART ONEChapter One 

Erik threw himself down on his bed, sighing contentedly. Another long session with his angel complete, with another one tomorrow to look forward to. To live for.

"Hmmmm…" he rumbled from the back of his throat, "_My_ Christine…_my_ Christine…" The words rolled experimentally off his tongue a few more times before he started at the sound of a muffled sob.

Sitting up quickly, he looked wildly around the room, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. He snatched up his nearby lasso and strode out into the main cavern of his lair.

A few minutes later, he re-entered, massaging his temples. "I am insane," he muttered as he returned the rope to the floor and began to undress for bed.

Before he completely removed his shirt, though, he froze.

"This time, I know I heard something, and it was in this room."

He had indeed heard what was similar to a gasp and a thud. Now, more clearly, "Steve!"

He leapt for his Punjab lasso, in the process getting his arms stuck in his shirt, bumping into and knocking over a large candlestick, and thence falling flat on his face on the stone floor.

After a few more moments he had untangled his hands from the sleeves, grabbed the rope, and paused to listen for more noise.

Beat.

"Steve, are you okay?

_Aha!_ He thought triumphantly, _the closet!_

Striding across the room and throwing open the door, he shouted, "Tremble before me, for I am…!"

gasp

thud

He stared down at the two unconscious teenage girls. _Well, that worked._

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A/N: this was short, but more good stuff to come. if you review, we will update. if you don't review…we most likely will still update. BUT, please review. all comments, questions, and flames are welcome. though, if you are mean to our baby, we will hunt you down and kill you to death. andi mean that in the friendliest way possible – shoe

COMING UP IN CHAPTER TWO:

"What are you doing here, give me my cape, and LEAVE!"


	2. Part One: Chapter Two

**Ceci est le Titre de Notre Histoire en Français**

_A/N: thanks to the estel who reviewed. we love you! glad to be of some help. we would also like to note to a mutual friend of ours that if you have a problem with what is written here, DON'T READ IT._

PART ONE

_Chapter Two_

Erik, being the big, strong man that he was, quite easily carried the senseless girls one at a time to lay them on the gravel shore of his lake.

In the light of his candles and the small bit of sun shining in, he could more clearly observe the intruders.

They both appeared to be around the age of fifteen, and were dressed like male gypsies. At least, that's all he could think of to compare it to. One was blonde – the one called "Steve" – and the other had light brown hair. They could be two of the ballet rats, but he had never seen them before. _How the devil did they get in my closet?_

"Only one way to find out…" he snatched up the dark-haired girl and tossed her into the shallows. The blonde immediately followed.

Coughing and sputtering, they woke up. At the sight of the half-naked Phantom, Steve fainted over again.

"Steve!" the other girl broke out of her drooling trance to pull Steve's head above the water and smack her a few times.

Soon they were both back in the said drooling trance.

"Who are you?" he asked harshly. Getting no response, he leaned into their faces, snapping his fingers loudly. "Who. Are. You?"

Steve jumped and moved her eyes finally from his…er, exposed chest to his face. "I'm Steve Wraith and she's Shoe Anders."

Shoe had also now turned her attention to the conversation and nodded wildly.

"How did you get in my closet?"

The girls look at him, each other, back at him, and shrugged their shoulders, grinning stupidly. Erik stared at them unbelievingly.

Suddenly, Shoe turned to Steve, "Oh-my-gosh-Steve!"

Steve shrieked, "What!"

"The Phantom of the Opera just threw us into his lake!"

"Oh. My. Gosh." They both squealed and bounced up and down from their positions in the water.

"Mademoiselles – " Erik started, but stopped abruptly when Shoe stood up and ran, water flying, in the direction of his bedroom.

He quickly strode after her, forgetting Steve for the moment. The latter jumped up and started dripping water all over his floor and artwork.

Following a trail of water, Erik entered his room to find Shoe in his closet again. "What are you…?"

He trailed off as Shoe turned around, swishing his spare cape on her shoulders as she did so. She held his red-death mask over her face and grinned up at him. "'Ello."

Erik glowered at her greeting. "What are you doing here, give me my cape, and LEAVE!" He grabbed the mask off of her and moved for the cape when he heard painful chords pounding out of his organ from the main room.

"I am going insane!" He exclaimed as he ran once again out of the room, pulling Shoe with him by the arm.

TBC

_A/N: thanks again for reading. more to come._

COMING UP IN CHAPTER THREE:

"Whoa! What's that?"

"Or that?"

"Out, out! OUT!"


	3. Part One: Chapter Three

PART ONE

_Chapter Three_

_A/N: this one was mostly steve. with a little shoe for good measure…and good grammar. also, our phantom's lair is not exactly the one you see in the movie. because, well, nobody's perfect._

Erik dragged a soaking wet Shoe into the room to see Steve mercilessly slamming her grimy wet fingers/fists down on his organ.

"Get away from that," he growled. Steve looked up at him, a silly grin marring her features.

"But I'm playing. I thought you liked music." Her hand danced over the keys again.

"That's not music, that's PAIN!" Erik released Shoe and lunged at Steve. She squeaked, grabbed some papers from the organ, and ran away. Erik chased after her. Shoe leaned over a dropped sheet on the floor and picked it up.

"'Don Juan Triumphant'. Cool!"

CRASH

THUMP

Shoe looked up and saw that Erik had tripped over, apparently, his own feet as he dove again for the papers in Steve's hand.

"You're getting them all wet!"

Steve jumped on top of a chair and from thence to a table, still holding the manuscript. Erik slowly stood and advanced towards the table, a predatory glint in his eyes. You mess with Don Juan, you mess with the Phantom.

The next few seconds conveniently went in slow motion for Shoe, who watched with horror as the Erik took a running start at the elevated Steve. Steve moved as he did, and tried to run. She must have forgotten that she was standing on a table, because she stepped right off of it, and fell face first onto the floor, manuscript flying.

Now, the one thing that the authoresses must complain about Erik's lair is that it is very…inconvenient, for the lack of a better word. Really, what kind of a person would put a HUGE (and I mean huge) fireplace right next to a table where any innocent person could fall off and drop anything of none to enormous value into the flames?

Seriously. Dude.

But, uh, apparently, the Phantom lacks interior design talent, and must be counseled about his issues.

Back to the story. What do you mean you already know what happens? It's not blatantly obvious, it's very…discreetly placed into the above rant.

FINE, ok, the said above rant may have been a _little _much, but what the heck, it's not your story.

Read on.

"You…you…" Erik dropped to his knees in front of the flames. "You…you…my…" He blinked a few times. "NOOOOOO!"

Both girls winced at his scream of anguish. The work of his life…gone. No, no, no. Not true. Not possible. _Damn, and I was really looking forward to making Carlotta dress like a slut._

He kneeled, watching the disintegrating papers for a few minutes, and forgetting everything until…

"At least they're not wet anymore." Shoe must be standing right behind him, and he jumped five feet in the air. "Here, you still have the first page…" She held it out to him. Erik snatched it out of her hand and stared at it in disbelief. His voice was even as his hands began to shake in anger, "Will you answer my original question? Where. Did. You. Come. From."

Shoe and Steve shrugged in unison. "I dunno," one of them murmured.

Steve suddenly looked up "Whoa! What's that?"

"Or that?" Steve and Shoe started walking off in opposite directions (still dripping wet).

Erik's hands shot out, grabbing the back of their collars. "Aak!"

He growled as he dragged them toward the lake. The two girls flailed as he strode into the water, still pulling them behind him. Upon reaching the entrance, he tossed them out.

"Out, out! OUT!" He pulled the gate down with a passion.

Turning around and wading back, he heard a feeble, "Hey, you're not mad at us are you?"

Erik made it back to his room, pulled off his wet trousers and collapsed once again on his bed. As he drifted off to sleep, he prayed that his two strange visitors would be gone by the time he woke up.

_A/N: heh, heh. Part Two starts with the next chapter_


End file.
